I’ve decided. I’m going gay or moving to an island inhabited only by Amazon women. You know the place, where Wonder Woman came from. Yes, my mind is made up.
I am a solitary female living in an all-male environment. I live with my husband and two teenage sons. We live in the South. For all you Northerners, allow me to elaborate. In the South, men pride themselves on strength (killing the bugs and taking out the garbage), character (holding open doors and pumping gas), integrity (making sure the women-folk don’t worry too much), intelligence (hooking up the electronics and making a good deal when buying a new car) and all things related to looking after the women-folk. We are a military family—this is where the testosterone level goes way, way up.
he other day, after getting off very late from work, I decided that cooking dinner was not an option. On my way home I stopped at KFC for a little take-out. They had this great deal called the Family Feast. It came with a bucket of grilled chicken, three large side dishes, six biscuits, and a half gallon of soda. Perfect! Or so I thought. I, very unwisely, chose the strawberry soda and then promptly spilled it on the way home. Spilled is not the right word. The entire container exploded when I took a turn to fast. Everything was covered in sweet, sticky, bright red soda. I mean everything. I had soda in my hair, all over my seats, on my beautiful handbag, in my shoes, on my face, covering the steering wheel, splattered on the windows, and all over my fabulous winter white suit. Most of the soda had pooled on the floor of the car. In an effort not to completely ruin my sand colored interior, I rushed home to try to clean up the sticky mess. I called ahead using sticky fingers to dial my cell phone. I asked my guys to come out and help me unload the car. (This is very common, the men do all the heavy lifting here in the South).
I pulled into the garage and jumped out rushing madly into the house to get cleaning supplies and towels. Standing before me were three towering males, all with very confused expressions.
That’s when it happened. My husband looked me directly in the eye and said, “Why, would you do this?” That stopped me in my tracks. Now I was the one looking at him as if he was a three-headed alien.
Not to be outdone, my sons chimed in:
“Yeah mom, what were you thinking?”
“Mom, really?”
Not only were they blocking my path but they were actually asking me ridiculous questions! I tried to ignore them and just carry the food into the house quickly and get back out to the car to rescue the rugs and floorboards (the seats are leather, man proof by design).
This is where it gets really ugly people. My husband, still shaking his head, said to me, “Honey, just go on inside and get out of those wet clothes. I’ll take care of all this tomorrow.” What I heard was, “Why you poor, simple minded female ... you just run along and don’t worry your pretty little head about anything. We big, strong, strapping men will handle everything (tomorrow, when your car is ruined!)”
And that is when my head exploded! I am totally going gay because there is not a woman, on the face of this planet that would ever, in a million years, say anything that stupid.
